


Today Seems Like A Good Day To Burn A Bridge Or Two

by inverts



Series: At The Bottom Of A Wishing Well Was A Secret That We Dare Not Speak Out Loud [4]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Bullying, Fighting, Gen, POV Second Person, Species Swap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 04:19:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7998334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inverts/pseuds/inverts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Yeah?” Undyne says, and with just another step she’s looming over you, tall and terrifying, her face in dark shadow as she looks down at you. “Cause you look like a huge weenie to me!” She laughs, and you clench your fists. When you fail to say anything, her grin only grows, the sharp points of her teeth lit with crisp highlights from the river’s glow. “You wanna prove me wrong? Come on, brat.” Magic thrums audibly around you, and a spear the same colour as the glowing rocks comes together under her outstretched fingers. “Why don’t you show me how tough you humans really are!”</p><p>--</p><p>In which the fallen human Asriel takes a long walk off a short pier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Today Seems Like A Good Day To Burn A Bridge Or Two

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to keep up. You wore me out and [left me ate up.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bDQlSUjqsuo)

Undyne is somehow both nothing like Papyrus, and very much like Papyrus. The two of them exchange goodbyes so loud, you don’t know how the existence of monsters underground has remained secret at all; surely even everyone back in your town can hear them.

Once Papyrus is on his way back to that snowy town, Undyne sets a quick pace through the marsh, and you have to almost trot to keep up. Chara, too, has to adjust their stride, but they tug you along mercilessly all the same. Frisk falls behind, picking up the tail end of your procession. You find yourself looking over your shoulder periodically to make sure they’re still there, and each time that you assure yourself that they are, in fact, still trailing behind you, you have to shake off the urge to reach out to them with your other hand. You’re not five-year-olds crossing the street; you don’t need Chara to hold your wrist to make sure you’re okay, and Frisk doesn’t need you to hold their hand, either.

Somewhere along the way, Frisk and Chara let their warming flames fade out, and you’re reminded that your shoes are still wet. You don’t want to be a baby and ask for them to bring those little magic fires back, though. You’re out of the snow, now; you can tough it out. Your body heat as you keep walking will be enough to warm you up and dry your shoes and socks, right?

The river you saw before snakes through the cavern rooms, sometimes right next to the path, sometimes a waterfall cascading down so close you could put your arm through it, and sometimes disappearing from your sight altogether, though you can still hear the constant trickle and rush of moving water. The earth beneath your feet is damp and squishy, and when you reach out to touch the cave walls, lured by the bright blue glow of small stones, the rock is slimy under your fingers. The further you progress, it’s not only the stones that glow; the water starts to emit light as well, casting shadows up onto Undyne’s and Chara’s faces, like holding a flashlight below your chin to tell scary stories. You want to ask about the glowing water and the shining stones, but Undyne and Chara are talking to each other and it’s rude to interrupt, and you don’t think you could keep walking at their pace if you turned around to ask Frisk. 

The answer to why things glow is probably ‘magic,’ anyway.

“Kind of wimpy looking, though,” Undyne is saying, and your attention is abruptly on her words instead of your surroundings, your blood cold as when you hear kids at school laughing as you walk by. Their remembered voices echo with perfect clarity in your mind, ‘weenie’ and ‘crybaby’ and ‘spoiled’ and ‘weird,’ and you feel your cheeks heat up now the same as then. But you’re not at school. You’re under Mt. Ebott, following actual monsters through magical caves, and it’s stupid to think Undyne is talking about you. Just because ‘wimpy’ may as well be synonymous with your name when you hear it from your classmates, that doesn’t mean that every time someone says the word, they’re referring to you. You listen as she continues talking to Chara, though you probably won’t be familiar with whoever or whatever they’re talking about. “I thought humans were cool, with their energy swords and robot princesses, but I bet even Frisk could take this nerd!”

Oh.

Chara laughs, and you’re not out in the snow anymore, but cold rushes up in your gut, filling your empty stomach with heavy ice.

It wasn’t stupid at all, then.

You dig your heels into the soft earth and yank your hand free. It’s satisfying to watch Chara stumble, thrown off balance. They catch themself before they can trip, turning around to look at you with a bewildered glare, and Undyne stops too. She’s grinning, expectant, and the sight of it makes your heart beat that much faster even as your limbs lock up.

“I’m not a wimp!” you yell, and she takes a step toward you, and the only reason you don’t back away is because you’re frozen in place under her eye’s piercing stare. You want to say something else, you know that hours later you’ll think of fifty different things you could say, but your heart’s pumping all the hurt and upset through your ribs and your joints and your brain and it’s filled everything up like hot glue and you can’t think. She doesn’t even  _ know _ you. She doesn’t even know you, and she’s already reached the same conclusion as everybody else, except Papyrus, who was apparently too dumb to figure out the truth about you.

“Yeah?” she says, and with just another step she’s looming over you, tall and terrifying, her face in dark shadow as she looks down at you. “Cause you look like a huge weenie to me!” She laughs, and you clench your fists. When you fail to say anything, her grin only grows, the sharp points of her teeth lit with crisp highlights from the river’s glow. “You wanna prove me wrong? Come on, brat.” Magic thrums audibly around you, and a spear the same colour as the glowing rocks comes together under her outstretched fingers. “Why don’t you show me how tough you humans really are!”

You can feel your pulse rapid in your neck. Funny, that your heart’s going so fast, but you can’t move a single other muscle. Maybe you actually  _ are _ just a wimp, because if you were brave, you’d be able to say something, instead of trembling silently as you stare up at her. If you were brave, you wouldn’t feel tears forming at the corners of your eyes. If you were brave, you’d be able to fight back.

Soft, slow footsteps sound, breaking through the fog in your head, and Frisk walks to stand between you. They look up at Undyne, everything in their posture nonchalant, their shoulders relaxed, their hands loose at their sides.

“Stand down,” they order.

Frisk’s quiet voice doesn’t echo, but the hard words leave a resonant silence in their wake. You hear the trickle of water and your own breaths, and Undyne frowns down at the monster standing between you. Fear forms cold in your throat the longer the silence drags out, as Undyne and Frisk stare each other down. Her spear hums at her side, and she wouldn’t attack an heir to the throne, would she? She’s part of the Royal Guard; doesn’t that mean she’s supposed to, well, serve royalty? 

“We can’t escort Asriel to the exit if you beat him up,” Chara says, flippant and grinning. It’s this that smoothes out Undyne’s frown, and when she turns to look at Chara, she’s already smiling again. Her spear is gone as quickly as it came.

“Guess you’ve got a point,” she says. “But if the human starts a fight with me, I”m gonna end it!” And she flashes a sharp grin at you. 

You  _ didn’t _ start it, and you breathe in to say so, but before you can force the words out between your teeth, Frisk’s hand gently closes over your own. Your planned retort leaves you in a quiet exhale as they turn around to face you. Their paw pads are smooth and warm on your skin, and they slip their fingers in yours, loosely holding your hand. 

Chara had gripped your left wrist with their right hand; Frisk holds your right hand in their left. “Okay?” they ask. 

You can’t see any evidence of concern in their face, their mouth a flat line interrupted only by their fangs, their eyes all but shut. Your nose is tingling, and you drop your head so you won’t have to look at Frisk if you start crying. 

“Yeah,” you lie. 

They nod, and turn to start walking. Almost automatically, your fingers close around theirs. Their fur is soft. Undyne resumes her position at the lead, and after staring at you for a moment, Chara trots up to join her, walking abreast. They glance back at you, but when they meet your eyes, they turn back around. 

The four of you progress in silence, the rush of flowing water accompanying you. The river splits and crosses your path, and you all have to walk single file over a narrow bridge of wooden planks. Undyne’s steps echo loudly, her heavy armour clanking. Chara and Frisk’s claws tap on the wood, and your sneakers squeak wetly. 

“So, kid,” says Undyne, breaking the silence as she looks down at Chara next to her, “you think any more about training with me?” 

It’s hard to tell from behind, but it looks like Chara’s shoulders hunch, their head dropping forward so you can’t see the little nubs of their horns anymore. There’s a quiet moment before they reply. “Yes,” they say. “I thought about it.”

“And?” Undyne demands, grinning.

Chara’s steps slow, though not to a stop, and Undyne has to shorten her own so she doesn’t outpace them. Her grin shrinks, though her jagged teeth are still visible, and she leans slightly to better look at Chara.

“Sadly, I must decline for the time being,” says Chara, lifting their head to smile at her. The words are stilted, and not only because of the formal language. Undyne straightens, one hand on her hip.

“Yeah?” she says, voice challenging. “You learning from someone else? Who’s gonna teach you how to fight better than  _ me_?” 

Chara looks straight ahead and continues walking, picking up their pace once more. Undyne’s expression falls, her aggressive grin giving way to something that’s not quite a frown, but still visibly disquieted. 

“Hey,” she says, “I don’t mind if you’re training with someone else. I mean, I  _ mind_, but I’m not gonna get mad or anything!” She gives their shoulder a light shove, and they stumble to the side before finding their footing again. “I wanna make sure you’re ready, for—”

“Thank you, Undyne,” says Chara, abruptly cutting her off. “I am not currently training with anyone. When I am ready, you know you will be my first choice of instructor.” 

Undyne glances back over her shoulder at you and Frisk. 

“You might have to be ready real soon,” she says lowly, as she faces forward.

You look to Frisk, but their face, as always, betrays nothing. 

It can’t be that Undyne wants to train Chara to be strong enough to fight Frisk, can it? They said that they’d have to ‘prove themselves,’ but then they said they’d do that by breaking the barrier. They don’t have to fight to figure out who gets to inherit the throne, do they? 

You’ve  _ got _ to get back home. You walk a little faster.

After a time, the ground under your feet transitions to wooden planks once more, but instead of a narrow bridge, this time you find yourself walking out onto a long dock. The earth below you rapidly drops away, and the cavern walls here are void of glowing rocks. Heavy shadows cloak the three monsters in front of you; you can barely make out their silhouettes from the light of the stones and water behind you, and the further you walk, the worse it becomes. You squeeze Frisk’s hand without meaning to, and they squeeze back. 

“Hey,” you whisper. You’re immediately embarrassed, but something about this darkness seems to call for quiet. Having already started whispering, you resign yourself to continuing, as you ask, “Can you, um… Would you mind using your fire magic? I can’t see very well...”

Undyne snickers, but in seconds, a pale light washes over you. You can see the dock below your feet, though you can’t see the  _ ground _ underneath the dock, only inky darkness, and you rapidly look up, focusing on the trio of monsters in front of you. The flickering light from Frisk’s silver flames casts unnerving shadows on Undyne’s armour, and her yellow eye and her teeth gleam, standing out starkly from her skin. 

Chara stops walking and turns around; the rest of you come to a stop without being asked. They hold their hands out in front of them, and a rolling gold ball of fire comes to life between their palms. You’d roll your eyes if you weren’t worried about making them or Undyne angry again. Is  _ everything  _ a contest to them? Frisk’s magic was already providing plenty of light. There’s no need for Chara to use their own, too. 

But apparently they’ve another reason for halting the procession. “Check this out, Asriel,” they say, and the fire in their hands flares and twists. It bursts into petals, and you’re no longer looking at flames; golden flowers bloom between their fingers, floating and pulsing with gentle light. They lower their hands, still cupped, letting the magic hover in place, and look up to see your reaction. Judging by their pleased smirk, they’re not disappointed. 

“Can you do that, too?” you ask, turning to Frisk, and you only realize it might not have been the best thing to say when you see Chara’s grin drop, their bright eyes narrowing. Frisk doesn’t nod, but they twist their wrist, and the silver flames above their fingers turn inwards, concentrating into a dense ember, before they sparkle out into cartoonish five-pointed stars. 

“All monsters can control the form their magic takes,” Chara says, a very matter-of-fact tone in their voice, as though they’re explaining a very obvious fact to someone too dense to get it on the first go. “Boss monsters like us are naturally inclined to fire, but if we concentrate, we can make other things.” 

As Chara explains, Frisk lets the stars dance around their fingers, and some of them wink into other shapes—basic circles and a crescent that, when paired with the stars still twinkling about, make you think of the moon in its different phases. Earlier you’d wondered if they knew what the moon is; it seems that they do. Have they been able to see it with their own eyes, through the hole where you fell? Or have they only ever seen illustrations in books at the librarby? 

Personally, you think stars are cooler than flowers, but you're definitely not stupid enough to say that out loud. 

“Show-off,” Chara sneers, deliberately loud enough to be heard. Frisk looks at them, not saying a word, and you don’t bring up that it was Chara who started demonstrating their abilities to try to upstage Frisk. Apparently unsatisfied with the lack of retort, Chara crosses their arms. The golden flowers of their magic flutter down like falling leaves, resting at their feet but not dissipating. “You think you’re so great. Everything’s so easy for you, isn’t it? You’re magic’s  _ so _ powerful, you don’t even have to  _ try _ to be better than me.” 

Still there’s no response from Frisk beyond their blank stare, and Chara bares their grit teeth. “What, are you too good to even acknowledge me, now? I started saying something you don’t like, so you’ll pretend nothing’s happening like you always do, is that it?” Their voice is rising; they’re near to yelling, now. “Do you think you can ignore me until I start behaving again?” 

Finally Frisk replies, a simple shake of their head.

“ _Then why do you always act like I don’t even matter!?_ ” Chara demands, bending nearly double as they shout.

Frisk lets go of your hand and steps forward, their weight evenly distributed on both feet. Chara straightens, laughing with their mouth wide open, and then they mirror Frisk’s stance, their hands falling to form fists at their sides. “What’s this?” they ask, mockingly. “A reaction? Did I say something you didn’t like?”

“Yes,” Frisk answers. 

Your arm now free, you back up, looking to Undyne. She’s watching the two boss monsters as well, one hand on her hip. Though her attention is wholly on them and the rapidly escalating argument, she doesn’t seem bothered at all. Honestly, with the way the corners of her mouth pull up, if you didn’t know better you’d think she was happy to watch the fight unfolding.

Chara appears taken aback by Frisk's blunt answer, before narrowing their eyes once more. “At least I let myself be honest with my feelings!” they snarl, advancing a step toward Frisk. “You just watch everything happen, like you don’t even care, like you expect the crown to just fall into your lap without doing anything at all!”

Frisk’s lip lifts over their teeth, a low growl filling the air. 

You give up pretending that you’re not scared, and you edge around Frisk, before practically running to Undyne. She tilts her head to look down at you, raising her eyebrows. “We have to stop them!” you hiss up at her. You don’t know how they got so angry so quickly—they were just showing off tricks!—but you do know this argument has already gone far beyond your ability to defuse.

Undyne laughs, and Frisk and Chara don’t even turn to look. “I’m not getting in the middle of  _ that_,” she says, still grinning. Your mouth drops open. Isn’t she a guard? Isn’t she supposed to protect them? Even if she only cares about Chara, shouldn’t she intervene?

You look back to the two boss monsters as Chara’s flowers erupt into flames, rising up to lick at their fingers, now extended out with their claws bared. “Why don’t you actually  _ do _ something for once,” they growl at Frisk, leaning forward on bent legs, and you can figure out what that posture means well enough.

You look up at Undyne again, barely resisting the urge to grab at her hand. “But they could hurt each other!” You let your panic into your voice; sometimes that can get some sympathy out of adults, and this time you’re not even trying to get someone to care about  _ you_, so it should work.

“Listen, brat,” she says, not even bothering to look at you this time, “those two fight all the time. It’s good for them to get it out of their system like this. You can’t bottle your feelings up! You have to let them out!”

You back away from her, aghast. How can it be  _ good _ to let Chara get so enraged, instead of talking to them about what’s upset them? How can it be good to let them and Frisk fight all the time, instead of sorting out their problems so they don’t keep getting angry with each other? They don’t have parents, they’d said, but isn’t there  _ someone _ who they can talk to, or who can help? 

You hear Chara yell, wordless and enraged, and you spin just in time to see them lunge at Frisk with hands coated in golden flames. Frisk raises their own silver fire too late to stop Chara from tackling them, and the two fall to the dock with a thump, screaming and snarling. You watch just long enough to see them roll to a stop, to see Chara slam Frisk down onto the wooden planks and raise one hand, claws and flames shining both, before you turn and run.

Your sneakers sound loud and fast on the dock, and you barely hear Undyne’s alarmed shout as you race past her. You know you should have tried harder to stop them, you should have tried harder to get Undyne to do something, you’re the worst coward, you  _ are _ a wimp and a crybaby and everything everyone says about you, but you  _ can’t_, you can’t do the right thing, you’re not brave enough. You saw Frisk’s teeth and Chara’s claws and the gold and silver of their magic, and you’re  _ scared_. 

Undyne yells after you, “Human! Stop!” You hear her loud clanking armour as she gives chase, and you pump your own legs even faster. She should go stop Frisk and Chara from fighting if she wants to help! She should help them, because she’s an adult and she should know better and if she cares about Chara at all she should stop them from fighting instead of watching like it’s a sports game, she should help them because you can’t, you didn’t even  _ try_, you can’t do anything right, you shouldn’t even be here, you just want to go  _ home_—

Your foot comes down on empty air, and for the second time today, you fall.

  
  
  
  
  
  


You open your eyes to the starry sky.

Your stare up, blearily, at the field of glowing stars. Your head is aching in time to your pulse, your entire skull a pounding vise, and the specs of light hung in the dark sky are blurry. You squint to focus your vision, and the stars solidify into focus. Somehow, they seem both larger and dimmer than they should. But there’s only one place you can see this many of them, and you start to smile at the realization that you must be out in the country, in the field behind Dad's family house. The monsters, the mountain—it was nothing but a bad dream. You have no idea where you could have gotten all those ideas—maybe some commercial for a video game, or something you overheard at school—but it doesn’t matter. You must have fallen asleep while stargazing. Relief washes through you, that the worst of your worries is now no bigger than your lack of foresight in not bringing a blanket with you; you’re freezing out here!

You start to sit up, and you feel the weight of your soaked sweater and the cold wet of the rest of you. You can hear the sound of running water and voices murmuring, and you twist, splashing, to see the cyan shine of magic flowers and tiny rocks embedded in cavern walls. Water laps at your chest, the rest of your body submerged, a weak current tugging at your legs. You’re caught in a muddy niche, a bend in the underground river creating a corner for trash and debris to gather.

Somehow, the explanation that would make sense—you dreaming out under the stars—is false, and the absurd world where monsters exist and magic is real, somehow _ that’s _ not a dream. You’re cold and wet and hungry and tired, and now you’re alone, too, in a labyrinth of caves under a mountain where nobody knows you disappeared.

Your head throbs as you flail, your fingers slipping in the muddy riverbank as you try to pull yourself up. You fall back with a splash, and the cold water that lands on your face is easily distinguishable from your hot tears. Wiping your face just streaks mud across it, and you sob with your entire body. 

You can still hear voices around you. Whispers and distant murmurs, words all intersecting and cutting out each others’ vowels and building white noise with the remains, and you squeeze your eyes shut and sniff. Your nose hurts, a bright fresh pain compared to the steady pounding of your skull, and you breathe through your mouth instead, gasping, bent over the water so your tears drip down your nose and fall off into the river. 

“Help,” you whisper, and the voices don’t stop. They don’t pause or get louder or quiet down, and it’s like you haven’t even spoken at all. You swallow, and lift your head. You can’t see anyone over the riverbank, but you can hear them, however many monsters there are up there, just out of sight past the blue flowers. “Please,” you call out, and nobody replies. You wade back to the water’s edge, trying again to climb up, to find purchase in the mud and pull yourself out. Your feet slip out from under you, and you land with a squelch, your chest flat on the muddy slope. “Someone! Anyone! Help, please!”

Nobody comes. The hushed voices continue. You lower your head, not even caring that your bangs are going to be caked in mud when you rest your forehead on the wet earth. Your shoulders shake, your fingers dig into the mud and dirt, and you quit trying not to cry. You wail until there’s snot running down your lip, you sob until your face hurts from squeezing your eyes shut so hard, and you whimper your desire to go home until your mouth gives up on forming the useless words.

Eventually you quiet down, your shoulders only trembling instead of heaving, your bawling reduced to sniffling, your tears a slow trickle. Your head is still aching, and your audience of monsters is still murmuring away, although it sounds like someone out there has started crying, too. Nobody comes to comfort  _ them_, either, and you frown, lifting your head. 

It’s not your problem if some monster kid is bawling and nobody wants to help. Nobody came to help  _ you_. But their cries continue, and maybe it’s because the feeling of being ignored is fresh in your heart, but you straighten. You form your fingers into clawed shapes, digging them into the sloped and slippery bank, and you start to pull yourself up. You lose your footing several times, but you stay determined, clinging to every inch of progress, dragging your sweater through the mud. You’re going to throw these clothes into the garbage when you get home, and then you’re going to take a shower so long you’ll use up all the hot water. But before that, you’re going to go cheer up a crying monster.

Finally you get one arm up on level earth, and your feet scramble as you try to pull yourself the rest of the way up. 

“Woah there!” comes a voice, a little crackly, a little reedy, and you lift your head to see stumpy, clawed feet in front of you. Before you can process the sight, something’s grabbed hold of the back of your sweater, and you’re lifted like a toy in a claw machine. In the time it takes you to yelp, you’re being gently set on the flat ground. Your weight comes to rest on your hands and knees, tiny rocks digging into your palms and pressing through the fabric of your pants, and you only spend a few seconds in bewildered wonder before you stumble to your feet. 

You look back and forth, and though somewhere a monster is still crying, and voices still echo around you, the small cavern you find yourself in is empty but for flowers, yourself, and one tortoise-looking monster who only has to look an inch or two down to meet your gaze. One of their eyes is either squinted or swollen shut, but they peer down at you with the other, and their beaky mouth seems to grin. They’re definitely not the source of the crying, then.

“Looked like you were having some trouble there!” they say, accompanied by a laugh. Their voice stands out clearly from the other echoing ones, and you can’t help but look from side to side again, searching for the other speakers. The stones and river are just as void of other monsters as they were moments ago, and you look back to the monster in front of you. Their green skin is spotted and wrinkled like loose fabric, and for all that they’re clearly reptilian, there’s a long grey beard dangling from under their chin. Despite their apparent age, their crossed arms are thick with muscle, and it’s not difficult to see how they lifted you up. 

“Thank you,” you mutter, bringing your hands up to rub at your upper arms. This part of the mountain isn’t as cold as the snowy forest, certainly, but the air still sends a chill through you, and no wonder; you’re near completely soaked through. 

“Don’t mention it, kid!” they say, and they’re definitely grinning. There are large gaps in their teeth. You drop your eyes, not wanting to stare, and it’s then you notice that they wear armour similar to Papyrus’s. It’s leather instead of metal, and it comes to a stop when it meets the edge of their hard shell, but it’s definitely armour. If they’re part of the Royal Guard as well...

You shiver again, and look away. Though you’ve already glanced around the room a couple times in searching for the other invisible speakers and the crying monster, your gaze still travels from corner to corner. Maybe some monsters are invisible, like ghosts. As if you weren’t on edge enough.

“Looking for somethin’?” asks the monster in front of you, and you start, jerking your head back to face forward. They’re grinning still, unbothered, and once they see they have your attention, they point with a thumb at one of the blue flowers that stand tall, spaced throughout the cavern room. You raise your eyebrows, but the turtle only watches you, and you take a step closer to the bright flower. Glowing and enormous, it stands as tall as your chest, and its petals look like they could easily engulf your head. 

And it’s talking to you.

“Thousands of people wishing together can’t be wrong,” it declares, with a voice that sounds like it’s being shouted from a great distance away. “Their highnesses will prove that!”

A shiver runs down your spine, and you rub your arms again. There’s a short silent moment before the flower repeats its assertion, word for word, intonation exactly the same. You lift your head to look at the other flowers, and the voices that have never stopped are still all around you. As though having a visual source for the sounds clarifies the syllables, the moment you take in the speaking flowers, all the voices separate, becoming easy to distinguish. 

“I wish my sister and I will see the real stars someday.”

“Are the real stars anything like these sparkling stones?”

“If you hope with all your heart, your wish will come true.”

“One day, we’ll find out. I promise!”

And then, under all the other voices, your own wails echo back, pitiful sounds that make you wince. “Someone! Anyone! Help, please!” 

That’s got to be a new low for you, mistaking your own bawling for some child that you could help. You shake your head, earning yourself only another aching pulse through your skull, and look back to the turtle monster. 

While you were distracted, they’ve pulled out an enormous, ancient flip-phone, which they hold up to where they’d have ears, were they human. “Found him,” they say into the receiver.

You have hardly a second to wonder who they're calling before Undyne’s voice blasts out of the speaker, and you’re amazed that the tortoise monster doesn’t so much as flinch as she shouts, “Sir! Thank you, sir! What is your location?” 

Sir, huh? So does that mean you can start thinking of this monster as a he, or should you wait until you can ask? 

“Fairly close to your house, actually,” the turtle says. “We’ll meet you at the intersection just south of it.”

“Yessir, Captain Gerson!” Undyne yells again. “We’ll be there right away!” 

“You’re the captain of the Royal Guard?” you blurt, before you can think better of it. You shut your mouth quickly when Captain Gerson’s eye focuses on you. 

Undyne’s loud voice is still coming through the phone, tiny and far away as she shouts at someone else on her end, apparently having forgotten to hang up, “He says he found the human!” Gerson, still eyeing you critically, folds his phone shut and puts it away in some pocket.

“That’s right!” he says, his grin making an unexpected return. “I take it you’ve met some of the other members of the guard?” You nod, taken aback by the abrupt switch from the serious tone he used on the phone, and he leans forward, asking almost conspiratorily, “And what did you think of them?”

You’ve managed to piss off almost every monster you’ve met except Papyrus. There’s no way you’re answering this honestly. “I’m impressed,” you say. “They all seem very capable.”

Gerson cackles, a loud “Wahaha!” that echoes over the other voices in the little cavern room. The flower next to him immediately starts repeating the sound. “You’re not fooling me for a second!” he laughs, his eye narrowed. 

You don’t even have the energy to regret your apparent mistake. You drop your eyes and stand where you are, shivering in place, waiting to see just how mad you’ve made  _ this _ monster. Gerson regards you, then shakes his head. “Come on,” he says, turning and waving you to follow. “Unless I’m remembering wrong, can’t be good for a human to stand around in those wet clothes!”

With squelching sneakers, you trot after him, one of the flowers repeating that same “Wahaha!” as you pass it. You’re glad to leave the weird room with its parroting flowers behind. 

Gerson walks much faster than you’d expect from an elderly turtle-like monster. His stride is purposeful, and while it’s not hard to keep up, it’s not a leisurely stroll, either. You’re still shivering, but you might start to warm up a little at this rate. 

You’re impressed further when you note the gigantic hammer strapped to his back, with a thick handle that’s got to be at least a yard long, and a solid metal head, one end flat, the other curved and dangerously pointed. Like a fang the size of your arm. If all the members of the guard you’d encountered were as competent as their captain appears to be, you wouldn’t have been lying when you claimed to think them all very capable. 

Though, with how Papyrus apparently had no worries about shirking his duties when he decided to escort you along your way at the drop of a hat, and with how Undyne didn’t lift a finger to protect either royal heir, you have to wonder...

“What does the Royal Guard  _ do_?” you ask. Gerson turns his head to fix you with a stare again, and you quickly add, “Um, Captain Gerson. Sir.”

“You sure are a polite one!” he laughs, and you duck your head, frowning. “Well, kid. How much do you know about the history of how monsters came to live under Mt. Ebott?”

“Chara and Frisk told me there was a war between monsters and humans,” you mumble. Speaking of politeness, should you be calling them ‘their highnesses’ or something? If you can’t call them princes or princesses, you’re not sure how to refer to them. They haven’t told you to stop calling them by name, though, and they introduced themselves to you as simply Chara and Frisk. You decide not to worry about it; they can let you know if it bothers them.

“So you know that we lost the war,” Gerson nods. He’s slowed a little so that the two of you are walking abreast, and he doesn’t have to turn around to look at you while he speaks. “Even once we were trapped down here, though, the Royal Guard’s job was still protectin’ monsters from humans. We didn’t know if they’d come back to finish the job!” He winks, like it’s a joke. You don’t think it’s appropriate for you to smile in return.

“So, um” you stammer, trying to think of something else to say, “you’ve always been the captain of the Royal Guard?” 

Thankfully, he lets you move the conversation along. He shakes his head as he answers, “I was captain during the war, but by the time we were banished underground, I was already old. Wahaha! So I picked a successor and retired. But then about four, maybe five years ago, the monster who was captain at that time fell down.”

When Chara had mentioned monsters falling down, you’d thought it was a their way of processing their parents’ death, a little kid’s avoidance of reality. But to hear Gerson use the same phrase, there must be something else to it. He’s still answering your question, though, so you try not to interrupt him with another one. “There wasn’t anybody else qualified for the job. So the other members of the Guard asked me to come back. I’d love to hand the title over to someone else so I can relax again, get back to my little shop, but you’ve seen what I’m working with.” He grins, but it doesn’t seem very funny. Maybe old people have a different sense of humour. “At least right now, it’s not urgent. Until we break that barrier, all we have to do is deal with any humans unlucky enough to fall down here.”

The last thing he said that stands out to you. “Other humans have fallen into Mt. Ebott?” you ask. You’d known it had a reputation; your classmates had said that anyone who climbed Mt. Ebott would disappear. You’d dismissed that as a stupid myth or urban legend or something, claiming it didn’t frighten you at all, but now that you’re here, well. It seems there might be some reason behind such rumours, after all.

“Wahaha!” Gerson’s laughter interrupts your train of thought. “Of course! Did you think you were the first one in a thousand years?”

Honestly, you kind of did, but you’re not going to make yourself look like an even bigger idiot by admitting it. Instead, you ask, “How many others have there been?” And why didn’t any of those other humans tell everyone about the monsters trapped down here, once they made their way back to the surface? 

Maybe they were afraid nobody would believe them. In fact, you’re pretty sure not even your parents will believe you if you tell them the truth when you get back home, not as long as you have no proof and the monsters remain trapped below the barrier. 

“Hm.” Gerson draws the sound out, contemplative, and you wait patiently. If he’s been around since monsters were sealed underground, he must have at least heard about every human that’s come through, if he didn’t get the chance to see them for himself. Finally, he perks up and looks at you with a grin. “I forgot. Wa ha ha!”

You trip and stumble forward, managing to catch yourself before you fall flat on your face. You’ve taken enough tumbles today to last a lifetime, you think. Gerson nods to himself once you’re upright again, and the two of you continue. He doesn’t have to do much leading; there’s only the one path between the cavern walls and the river. 

You’re thinking about asking him something else—forgetfulness aside, he’s been much more informative than anyone else you’ve met, and you’d like to know just what it means for a monster to ‘fall down’—when the path widens into a clearing, a serene pond in the middle and several other tunnels branching out. You look around, trying to take in the details of where you just came from so that you’ll at least recognize that route, should you wind up on your own again. 

Before you can be certain you’ve got the arrangement of rocks and dripping stalactites fully committed to memory, something slams into you from the side. You yelp as you’re sent to the ground, and a heavy weight lands on top of you, squeezing what little air you still had in your lungs right out. Lying flat on your back and staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out how to inhale again, you wonder if this is how a whoopie cushion feels.

“Asriel,” comes a small, intense voice, from on top of your chest. You tilt your head down until your chin hits the collar of your sweater, and you can see the warm weight that’s flattened you: white fluff and two nubby horns and two floppy ears. Frisk’s face is turned to the side, their cheek pressed against your sternum, and their arms are wrapped tight around you, their hands trapped uncomfortably between your back and the ground. You open your mouth to tell them to get off, when they speak again with a force that seems greater than their soft voice should carry. “Thought we lost you.”

You close your mouth.

The sound of clanking metal approaches, paired with the crunch of stones beneath heavy steps, and you drop your head back to see Chara and Undyne looming over you. 

“Frisk, get off of him, he’s filthy,” Chara says, and Frisk only squeezes you tighter. Undyne laughs, and you frown at her, before lifting one hand to awkwardly pat Frisk’s back. 

“I’m all right,” you tell the monster clinging to you. Had they worried about you that much? It occurs to you that you’ve no idea how long it’s been since you took your long walk off a short pier. They’d obviously enlisted other members of the Royal Guard to find you, since Gerson was looking for you. You’re almost surprised they didn’t simply write you off as too much trouble and go back home. 

Bitterly, you hope that they  _ did _ worry, since they and Chara are the ones who scared you into running off in the dark. You regret that thought almost immediately. They’re taking you home, they looked for you when you got lost, and they’re happy to see you again. Frisk and Chara might be scary when they’re mad at each other, but they don’t want to see  _ you _ hurt. They both want to help you, and here you are, thinking nasty things like that about them. 

“Don’t run off like that again,” Chara commands you, their hands on their hips. You notice that one of their sleeves now ends at the elbow instead of continuing to their wrist, ripped edges hanging over their fur. Their exposed arm is free of blood or scorch marks though, and from what little you can see of them, Frisk doesn't seem too much worse for wear, either. You hope that means they stopped fighting as soon as you ran off. Chara’s still lecturing you: “How am I supposed to take you to the exit if you disappear like that?”

It might just be their way of saying they were worried too, but you stick your tongue out at them anyway. Undyne yells at you then, “Don’t be rude, brat!” and on top of you, Frisk giggles. 

After Frisk gets up and helps you to your feet as well, Undyne takes you to see a monster named Woshua to clean the caking of mud off of you. The little monster seems frankly offended at the sight of you and hits you with a barrage of water almost before Undyne’s finished explaining. The water pressure is enough to actually sting, until Frisk uses their own magic to interfere. You’re amazed when not only the mud washes away, but the bloodstain on your sweater sleeve disappears under the spray as well. Your face, too, feels clean, and though your nose still hurts when you touch it, your upper lip is no longer caked with dried blood and snot. You don’t even care when Chara laughs at your wet bangs falling into your eyes.

Once you and Frisk are clean, Undyne leads you to her home, “To take a well-deserved break from all that running around we did looking for you, brat!” It’s just the four of you, as Gerson takes his leave, saying that Undyne and their highnesses can take care of things from here. You’re soaked through after Woshua hosed you and Frisk down, and while it’s quick work for Frisk and Chara to use their magic to dry you off, it’s not until Undyne makes cups of hot chocolate for all three of you that you truly feel warm again.

“I keep this in stock for Chara,” she tells you, as she hands you your cup, “so you’d better appreciate that they’re letting you have some!” 

You try not to sound too begrudging as you thank Chara, and they wave you off, more focused on their own cup.

“Anyway,” she says, heading to the closed door at the back of the room, “the riverperson doesn’t start ferrying for a few more hours, so we might as well keep hoofing it. If you’ve got something other than that sweater you can wear, you’d better change.” So saying, she slams the door behind her, leaving the three of you alone in her living room. 

For all that Undyne keeps calling you ‘brat’ and insulting you, she was generous with the marshmallows, and you happily sip at your cup, quickly burning your tongue and continuing to drink anyway. It’s still not enough to replace your missed dinner, or come anywhere near to sating your hunger, after all the walking and running from the past few hours, but it’s much more satisfying than Papyrus’s spaghetti. And you’re used to fasting for holidays, so as long as you know that eventually you  _ will _ get to eat, when you finally get home, you can deal with this. 

All three of you are quiet as you nurse your cups. Frisk is the first to set their empty mug down on the table, licking their lips in clear satisfaction. Chara’s taking the time to appreciate theirs, and when they lower their cup, still half full, you and Frisk start giggling. There, on the fur just under Chara’s bright pink nose, there’s a messy line of chocolate in their fur. Chara narrows their eyes at you, and you decide to be nice and point at your own upper lip. Their eyes go wide in realization, then, and they quickly lick their chocolate mustache away. 

When Undyne comes out from her room, you can’t help but stare. Her armour is gone, replaced with jeans and a tank top, and a pair of the most awesome red boots you’ve ever seen. You wish  _ you _ had a pair of red boots like that. A voice in your head that sounds suspiciously like Mom’s asks you when you would even wear them, and sure, you have no idea, but they’re still really, really cool. 

“Ready?” she asks you all. Chara nods and hops down from their stool to take all three of your empty mugs to the sink. Undyne grins at them, giving them a thumbs up, and they return the gesture and the grin. 

The four of you head out—like Papyrus, Undyne doesn’t bother to lock her door—and resume your trek through the watery caverns once more. Frisk takes your hand again. There’s little conversation this time, as you walk through areas where water drips from stalactites like rain, and more of those blue flowers whisper at you when you pass by. 

You’re glad to be walking again—you needed the brief break at Undyne’s house, probably, but you haven’t stopped wanting to go home for a second. You’re eager to sleep in your own bed and eat your mom’s cooking and forget that this awful adventure ever happened. But as Frisk points out the capital’s castle in the distance, visible through an impassable tunnel filled with stalagmites and bottomless pits, and Chara, noting your clear awe, brags about the fact that they live there, and Undyne shouts at all three of you to hurry up, you can’t help but wonder.

Someone who cares about you, who laughs with you and stands up for you, who hugs you and holds your hand and keeps trying to help you, even when it’s time-consuming or difficult…

Is this what having friends is like?


End file.
